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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150678">overpowering lure</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chisotahn/pseuds/Chisotahn'>Chisotahn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>feathers, black and blue [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Banter, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:02:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chisotahn/pseuds/Chisotahn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey! Blondie! Got a new case for ya!”</p>
<p>Varric’s cheerful shout is unmistakable, and Anders sighs, turning away from the latest ink-splattered draft that isn’t any more convincing - or legible - than it was when he sat down an hour ago. “What did he do <em>now,</em>” he calls back, because yes, there’s Hawke, leaning on Varric as best he can given the height difference, clearly favoring his left leg. </p>
<p>Hawke gives Anders a rakish grin. “It’s a funny story. Really.” </p>
<p>(Act 2, established relationship - <em>someone</em> has to take care of Hawke. It might as well be Anders.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders/Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Male Hawke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>feathers, black and blue [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>overpowering lure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey! Blondie! Got a new case for ya!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Varric’s cheerful shout is unmistakable, and Anders sighs, turning away from the latest ink-splattered draft that isn’t any more convincing - or legible - than it was when he sat down an hour ago. “What did he do </span>
  <em>
    <span>now,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he calls back, because yes, there’s Hawke, leaning on Varric as best he can given the height difference, clearly favoring his left leg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke gives Anders a rakish grin. “It’s a funny story. Really.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure it is,” Anders says, glaring at Hawke. “How bad is it?” He’s not taking Hawke’s apparent good mood as a sign of how badly he’s been hurt; he’s long since learned that even if Hawke was on his deathbed, the man would still spit out some ‘clever’ quip as his last words.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a scratch.” Varric shifts a bit under Hawke’s weight. “But he still demanded I bring him all the way down here, the big lovesick baby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted the excuse to see you,” Hawke says, in his most flirtatious tone. Varric waggles his eyebrows at Anders, no doubt composing his next salacious tale at this very moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sit down and let me have a look,” Anders sighs, mentally preparing for the sly sidelong glances he’ll receive on his next trip to the Hanged Man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Varric helps Hawke over to the nearest chair; Hawke settles into it with a huff of relief as the weight comes off his hurt leg at last. Anders promptly kneels to examine the injury more closely. The leather of Hawke’s left greave is heavily dented, crushed through in places, and Anders squints at the damage pattern before giving Hawke an exasperated look. “You got caught by a leg trap, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a small one! I disarmed the big fire-throwing one,” Hawke protests, waving one hand at Varric. “Varric, tell him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, will I,” Varric says with relish, rubbing his hands together. “Let me set the scene: the Kirkwall docks, stinking of fish and salt-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what the docks are like,” Anders interrupts, rolling his eyes as his fingers work at the buckles of Hawke’s armor. “You can skip ahead, Varric.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Varric huffs. “You have no taste for good storytelling. Fine.” The dwarf leans forward slightly, clearly warming to his subject despite - or maybe because of - Anders’ request. “We’re going into this warehouse on a job, right? Trying to find some stolen cargo, the usual. Well, this guy, he spots the trap. Big old fire-breather, real nasty piece of work. Would’ve set us </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the evidence on fire. Pretty clever, honestly.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I should be grateful you’re not burned as well.” Anders shakes his head as he carefully frees the damaged greave from Hawke’s leg. The leather took the brunt of the trap’s bite, though the ends of the metal teeth punctured through in a few places, leaving small spots of blood on Hawke’s trousers. “What happened then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you weren’t immune to my storytelling charms,” Varric says, smug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anders contemplates a small lightning spell for a moment - but no, it wouldn’t work the way he wanted. Sodding dwarven magic resistance. “It has </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do with your so-called charms,” he grumbles. “I just want to know what happened.” He pokes a finger into Hawke’s calf experimentally, and Hawke winces. “Hawke?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke spreads his hands. “Varric’s the storyteller, not me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Varric says, inclining his head at Hawke in mock gratitude. “So. As I was saying. Hawke stops all of us from stumbling into the fiery death, finds the mechanism, does his thing.” Varric wiggles his fingers, presumably indicating trap-disarming. “Gives the all-clear just as a bunch of toughs burst in through the back door. Aveline charges, shield ready, sword raised, the perfect figure of the dutiful guard-captain. I grab Bianca-” Varric taps the crossbow’s stock, lovingly. “And this guy, what does he do? Steps back right into a leg trap.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mental image is so absurd that Anders snorts aloud, looking up at Hawke, who has the grace to look sheepish. “I thought you were supposed to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> rogue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke dramatically presses one hand to his chest. “I came here for healing, not to be wounded even more!” Anders huffs, and Hawke grins, eyes bright with mischief. “In my defense, I was focusing on the very large, very </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous</span>
  </em>
  <span> trap first. Did I mention it was extremely dangerous? The little leg trap, not so much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still, you should’ve seen him! Took out a dozen toughs while still stuck in the trap’s jaws-” Varric begins, enthusiastically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke coughs. “It was closer to five. Carrying a dozen throwing knives seems excessive, even for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, five toughs.” Varric looks exasperated. “But all in a row, bam-bam-bam, and only </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> does he even think about getting himself free. I covered him and got three myself, Aveline knocked out half a dozen. Isabela took care of the rest. Evidence secured, all very neat and tidy except for that.” Varric nods towards Hawke’s injured leg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have made that story </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> shorter,” Anders sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I tell it over an ale at the Hanged Man, it’ll be much </span>
  <em>
    <span>longer,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Varric replies, proudly. “Hawke, I think I’ll have you get two men with one knife. Threw it so hard it went right through the first and into the second-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anders shakes his head and focuses on Hawke’s leg. The flesh around the wounds is angry red; thankfully, the actual punctures aren’t deep thanks to Hawke’s armor. He calls up the magic, guiding it over Hawke’s skin with a sweep of his hand, pouring it like water. Hawke makes a small noise of relief and visibly relaxes. “Don’t stay in the trap throwing things next time,” Anders informs him, smoothing over the wounds with careful movements. “If the leather had given out...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s seen injuries like that, plenty of them, and superimposing that mangled flesh onto Hawke is upsetting. Anders wrenches his thoughts away from the unpleasant image and brushes his hand over Hawke’s shin one more time, putting a bit more force into it in hopes of getting the inevitable deep-tissue bruising too. “Just be careful,” he says, finally, for all the good it will do. As far as Anders can tell, Hawke hasn’t been careful a day in his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Hawke says, bending to prod carefully at the healed skin before giving Anders a grateful smile. “I appreciate your services, as always,” he adds, and Anders feels his face heat despite himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not in front of the dwarf,” he hisses, jerking his head at Varric, who’s watching them with that I’m-writing-about-you-right-now look on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The dwarf has heard worse,” Varric says, grinning wickedly. “Remember when I caught you two in the alley-” Anders </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> zap him then, a quick jolt of magic that might have hurt a human, but it only makes Varric swat at him. “Barely even registered! You’ll have to do better than that, Blondie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to destroy my clinic just to get at you,” Anders mutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll keep that in mind.” Varric rolls his shoulders, then nods at Hawke. “I’m going to get a drink. See you two lovebirds later.” Varric turns and walks away, whistling, and Anders resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. He’s not going to give the dwarf the satisfaction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment later, Hawke rests his hand on Anders’ head, tangling his fingertips in Anders’ hair. “Thank you,” he repeats, more gently this time, and when Anders looks up at him his smile is winsome. “I really did want to see you, you know, even if it was a bit more trouble to get here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know you’re always welcome,” Anders sighs; Hawke scratches gently at Anders’ scalp, and Anders melts a little under the touch. He’s still kneeling in front of Hawke. The position hadn’t seemed compromising earlier, but now that the healing work is done and Hawke is touching him…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anders pushes himself to his feet, abruptly, pivoting to scan the clinic. No other patients came in while he was tending to Hawke, and he has no longer-term cases at the moment. He can justify it. “Give me a moment,” he murmurs, hurrying to the door and sticking his head out. Nothing out of the ordinary there, either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He extinguishes the lamp over the door with an icy curl of wind that makes the lantern rattle against the wall, then shuts and bars the clinic door. His clientele know what to do if there’s an emergency and he’s out… or occupied. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed</span>
  </em>
  <span> this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The spirit within him radiates mild disapproval, but doesn’t object.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Letting out a breath, Anders turns to see Hawke getting to his feet, putting weight on his now-healed leg gingerly at first, then with more confidence. “Closing up shop?” Hawke says, grinning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anders pushes him roughly up against the nearest wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke makes a startled, pleased sound, and Anders kisses him hard, any reservations he had crumbling away now that they’re alone. Hawke reaches for him, and Anders grabs the other man’s wrist, pinning it to the wall above his head; Hawke whimpers into his mouth, trying to press against him. “Take better care of yourself, you idiot,” Anders says, breaking the kiss to take Hawke’s chin in his free hand. He studies Hawke’s face carefully, finding a scrape that he soothes away with a brush of his thumb, magic tingling between them. “If I didn’t have so much to do here...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t exactly discouraging me, you realize,” Hawke manages, trying to catch Anders’ thumb with his mouth. “If </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what standing in one trap by accident gets me-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t even joke about that,” Anders says, sharply, forcing Hawke to meet his gaze. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hawke.” He’s thought, inevitably, about what Hawke being seriously injured or worse, killed, would do to him. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Justice wasn’t in favor of their relationship at first, but at this point… well, Justice is nothing if not fiercely protective, and that resonates well enough with Anders’ own feelings. “I don’t know what we’d do if something happened to you,” he says, low, and Hawke shivers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want that for either of us, believe me,” Hawke says, tipping his chin up, encouraging Anders to kiss at his throat, at the sensitive places where Hawke’s beard fades to stubble. “What I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> want is a bed. A cot? Something horizontal.” Hawke hisses as Anders nips lightly. “Anders-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much fun as Hawke is pinned up against a wall, horizontal is easier. The other man outweighs Anders by a fair bit, after all, what with all his roguish muscles and such. “Bed,” Anders agrees, letting Hawke’s trapped hand go and steadying his lover. “But I’m taking you this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lead the way,” Hawke gasps, his trousers already tenting over his growing erection. Anders tows him back into Anders’ own small bedchamber. It’s a strangely-shaped space, long and narrow, but at least there’s a bed in one corner. An overglorified cot, really, but Hawke sprawls pleasingly over it, letting out a contented sigh before making a face and scrabbling at his armor. “Shit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is one of the many reasons magic is superior,” Anders informs him, smirking. “Like I said, robes are quick.” He unbuckles his coat while watching Hawke fumble at his armor - the lighter, leather gear Hawke prefers is nothing like taking off plate armor, but it still takes time, and Anders easily strips before Hawke can get his breastplate off. “Need help?” Anders says, smirk growing wider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke huffs at him. “This is your fault. If we’d gone home first-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think we’d make it all the way back to your manor? That’s cute,” Anders says, undoing the last buckle and lifting Hawke’s breastplate free. The gauntlets, at least, are quicker, and Anders already took off one of the greaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Anders takes his time, letting his fingers flit over Hawke’s skin and clothing, stripping him slowly, deliberately. Hawke’s eyes half close, and he lets his head fall back onto Anders’ pillow, making tiny noises of pleasure and shivering deliciously every time Anders lingers somewhere interesting - the curves of Hawke’s hip bones, the hollow of his throat, his fingers freed from the leather one by one. Anders licks at the tip of Hawke’s thumb and is rewarded with a groan that sends heat rushing through him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anders,” Hawke whines, and Anders splays one hand over Hawke’s naked chest, pushing down a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you get to take your time with me, I get to take </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> time with you,” Anders informs him, and Hawke’s breath catches in an extremely satisfying way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bed isn’t big enough for them to lay side-by-side, the walls so close that Anders can easily spread his arms and touch both sides of the narrow space, but the tight quarters open up other intriguing possibilities. Anders studies Hawke, then nods to himself. “Right. Get up.” Anders steps back and fumbles into his pack for the oils he’s started keeping in there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were going to take me,” Hawke complains, but he gets up anyway, awkwardly sliding off the side of the cot into the thin sliver of space between it and the opposite wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am. I think you’ll like this, actually.” Anders grins at him. “I’m kind of proud, myself. Or I will be, if it works.” Anders slides onto the cot, the small flask of oils in one hand, movement somewhat hampered by the close quarters; he accidentally jabs Hawke with an elbow before settling himself onto the cot, lying on his back. He hears Hawke’s breath catch again - now Anders is the one spread out like a banquet, his cock already curving up. Anders swats at the inevitable reaching hand. “Now you - come here, on top of me. Brace yourself on the walls if you need to. You can, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke makes an obscene sound, but inches out from between the bed and the wall to stand at the foot of the bed, licking his lips in a quick movement. “Let me just-” Hawke says, and bends to shift the bed, Anders and all, so that it’s in the middle of the small space rather than pushed up against one wall. “Okay. Yes. I think I see what you mean.” Carefully, Hawke straddles Anders, knees planted on either side of Anders’ legs; he stares down at Anders’ cock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anders wordlessly offers up the flask of oils. Hawke nearly drops it in his eagerness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anders watches with lazy satisfaction as Hawke prepares himself, Hawke’s elbows occasionally knocking against the walls. It’s awkward, but that’s part of the thrill - making it work, being </span>
  <em>
    <span>clever</span>
  </em>
  <span>, drawing out every possible advantage of the small space. Hawke’s own growing erection and the low, hungry noises he makes as he works himself open definitely don’t hurt. “Don’t forget about me,” Anders says, teasing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As if I could,” Hawke huffs, his skin deliciously flushed with want. Hawke puts the flask of oils to one side and reaches for Anders’ cock with slick fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not too much,” Anders gasps, trying not to writhe against Hawke’s hands, wanting to make it last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke grins wickedly before inching forward on his knees, a little uncertain. “You want me to lower myself down onto you?” he says, glancing down to meet Anders’ gaze, checking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Andraste’s tits, yes,” Anders moans, his hips hitching upwards, and he stills the movement with a stifled noise. “Keep your weight on your knees - brace on the walls-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke shifts forward again until he’s straddling Anders’ hips, wobbling for a moment before reaching out to brace one hand on each wall. Anders watches Hawke’s arms and chest flex as he shifts his own weight, feeling it out, and that’s its own sort of delight. “Like this. Yes. All right,” Hawke says, and lifts himself, legs quaking a little as he shifts up and forward. “You’re going to have to help, I think-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anders sits up; this brings Anders’ face right up against Hawke’s chest, and Anders contemplates teasing one of Hawke’s nipples before deciding that would likely end badly. Anders shifts his cock, positioning as best he can. “All right, love,” he breathes, and as Hawke shifts, the head of Anders’ cock pushes in. The contact jolts through them both, and Anders falls back onto the bed with a moan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carefully, shaking with combined effort and need, Hawke lowers himself onto Anders’ cock. Anders has to resist the urge to thrust immediately, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maker</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s hard not to, with Hawke settling around him, warm and slick. Every inch deeper makes them both shudder, until at last Hawke’s ass settles against Anders’ thighs, taking him in completely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Hawke manages, shifting to brace himself on the sides of the bed, leaning over Anders, panting. Hawke is trembling, eyes wide and dark, carefully keeping as much of his weight as possible off Anders’ legs. “All right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to ask?” Anders gasps, and hitches his hips upward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything blurs, then, Anders rutting into Hawke with abandon, need overtaking patience at last. Hawke moves, too, matching Anders’ rhythm so Anders can thrust deep into him, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s good. Hazily, Anders reaches up to take Hawke’s erection in his hands, and Hawke cries out at the touch, shuddering. Anders’ strokes are graceless, fumbling, but that doesn’t matter, not with Hawke arching over him, rising and falling with every jerk of Anders’ hips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke comes with a shout, spilling all over Anders’ chest, tightening around Anders’ cock; Anders gasps something incomprehensible and follows. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maker,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hawke. Galen,” Anders whimpers as he comes, long and hard, and Hawke smiles down at him, looking dazed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They do both fit in the bed, it turns out, though it’s awkward and they both have to lay on their sides and Anders’ ass is hanging off the edge but that doesn’t matter. They would fit more comfortably on the cot if they spooned, probably, but then Anders couldn’t look at Hawke, at the way his face goes soft with contentment. “You are incredible,” Anders murmurs, drawing one of Hawke’s hands up; Hawke’s palm is a bit scraped from bracing himself on the walls, and Anders soothes the red skin with a sweep of his fingers. “Absolutely astonishing, love.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke hums, low in his throat, and offers up his other hand. “It was a good idea,” he says, sighing as Anders’ magic brushes over his palm. “Very… creative.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anders grins at him, pressing a kiss to the hand he’s just healed. “I decided someone ought to have the benefit of your rogue skills, since you weren’t using them for self-preservation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke huffs and nuzzles against Anders’ shoulder, his beard tickling Anders’ skin. “Are you ever going to let that go? It was just a silly little leg trap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably not,” Anders admits, grinning. “Someone has to keep you humble, love.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke snorts. “I’ll show you rogue skills, mage,” he says, nipping at Anders’ shoulder. “Once we’re not trying to fuck in a tiny Darktown rat-hole…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First of all, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> Darktown rat-hole, thank you very much.” Anders prods him with one finger. “Second, I thought it was an excellent opportunity for you to show off your strength and flexibility, and I was absolutely right.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hawke nips a little harder, then lets out a contented sigh. “I suppose,” he mumbles. “But your bed is </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Anders. I need to dig up the key for the passage from Darktown to the manor basement. I could even put a bed in the basement for emergencies…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea of Hawke buying a bed solely for </span>
  <em>
    <span>emergency fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> makes Anders shake with laughter. Hawke resumes sucking a love-bite into Anders’ shoulder. “Here I thought Isabela and I were the hedonists,” Anders manages, shoving at Hawke ineffectually. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have hidden depths,” Hawke says, solemnly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I want to fuck absolutely all of them, believe me.” Anders slips one finger under Hawke’s chin and tips his head up for a kiss, lazy and slow and wonderful, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maker, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anders loves him more than he’s loved anyone in his life. He doesn’t deserve Hawke at all, but for once the knowledge is a source of wonder instead of guilt, because Hawke knows exactly what Anders is and loves him anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they break the kiss, Hawke shrugs one arm over Anders’ side. “‘I’m going to fall asleep in your shitty bed,” he mumbles. “And then I’m going to wake up achy and stiff and it will be your fault.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fortunately, I’m a healer,” Anders says, settling against Hawke’s warmth. “I’ll take care of it, love.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You always do,” Hawke sighs, squeezing him gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anders lets his head drop against Hawke’s and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Always,” he murmurs, letting himself drift, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Always, for as long as it lasts. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic exists entirely because Hawke got stuck in a leg trap in-game and my wife's response was to laugh at me (understandable) and drop the "I thought you were supposed to be a <em>good</em> rogue!" line, thus spawning the first scene and dooming me to another story about these idiots. No complaints.</p>
<p>Overpowering Lure is a trap type from Dragon Age: Origins.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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